“Voices. You are all mad voices in my head, pulling this way and that. I feel like a crazy person!”

Con Gregor had cut short a councillor mid report.

“We have idled for two weeks, doing nothing. Nothing. We have issued no ultimatums, mobilized no troops, taken no action. Your democratic witchery has made me into an old fool.”

Such outbursts were best left uninterrupted.

“First I am told that we must attack. Then our forces are too few. Then that we could attack Koagrad to neutralize their bargaining power. Then that attacking Koagrad would force a united Tertius. I am tired. I am tired of searching for the perfect solution. I want action, before Verdanus begins to decay, and before I die damn it!”

Which counsellor could risk speaking at that point? They feared not that their ideas were subpar – they feared that the Con would put them into action. And when things went horribly wrong, as they undoubtedly would, who would be held responsible? Only Prettana dared speak.

“We do nothing; events will unfold.”